


hold me fast and fear me not

by The_IPRE



Category: Campaign (Podcast)
Genre: Ballad of Tamlin AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29019570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_IPRE/pseuds/The_IPRE
Summary: It was an unusually kind spring that saw Margaret enter the Forest Queen’s lands for the first time, clad in white and green and gray and filled with purpose.There were stories of a monster, of a man, sharp and vicious and just plain rude.Margaret intended to find him.
Relationships: Margaret/Travis Matagot
Comments: 10
Kudos: 9





	hold me fast and fear me not

**Author's Note:**

> creativity is a flat circle <3 if you know that travis and margaret are based on the hazards of love is based on tamlin no you dont <3 anyway shoutout to the uwuru for having excellent taste

The Forest Queen’s procession is a decadent thing to behold. A train of horses whose hooves hardly make an imprint on the frost of the forest floor, flowering vines that enforce celebration, despite the atmosphere that wilts them with every passing moment.

The Queen herself leads them, antlers arching high above, no branches daring to tangle with them. Her expression is set, detached amusement written in the arcs of her brows, no breath moving the collar of lichen creeping up her throat. The forest bows around her, taking heed of its matriarch and making way for her march.

Margaret, hidden behind a boulder, does not spare her a second glance.

Instead, she looks across the masked riders, dismissing each almost as soon as she sees them. Although she can not see their faces, she knows bone-deep that none are hers. Too tall, too graceful, none make her heart ring.

Then, ivory-white and striking against the mottled greens and browns of the procession: a shock of hair that she would recognize anywhere. One that she has run her fingers through more times than she can count, one that swoops back from the ivory raven mask and rests about its bearers shoulders.

Travis is slumped lazily to one side, but Margaret can just make out his white-knuckled grasp on the reins. 

As much as Travis acts his _Sovereign-may-care_ act, Margaret knows the lines of his body better than her own.

She takes a deep breath, smooths her hands down the front of her dress.

The procession carries forwards, Travis’s head bobbing with the movement, and Margaret exhales.

If the Forest Queen will throw away one of her own so easily, she can not be blamed for whoever will step forward to claim him.

Margaret breaks free from hiding, sprinting to the white steed and ignoring the gasps that chorus up, instead pulling her true love to her and holding him close.

His arms wrap around her in turn, and she knows that neither of them will let go.

* * *

It was an unusually kind spring that saw Margaret enter the Forest Queen’s lands for the first time, clad in white and green and gray and filled with purpose.

There were stories of a monster, of a man, sharp and vicious and just plain rude.

Margaret intended to find him.

When she came to a clearing she paused, woolen hood down as she tilted her face to the sunlight that filtered through the leaves. A light wind brought the forest to life with the noise of a thousand things moving through their days, and if Margaret did not know whose lands she stood on she would almost have felt at peace.

Someone cleared their throat behind her, and she turned with an open smile and the confidence of a woman who had every right to trespass. “Hello?”

A man with silver hair and clothes too elegant for the forest surrounding him looked up from where he was inspecting his nails. “Oh, don’t let me stop you from making yourself at home.”

“Much appreciated, Mr...” Margaret said, letting the question hang in the air.

He leaned against a tree, uncaring ease outlining the movement. “Most people around here call me Travis Matagot.”

Margaret cocked her head, the dance of names and pleasantries an unfamiliar but not unknown one. “Is that your real name, Mr. Matagot?”

He threw his head back in a laugh, exaggerated but almost genuinely delighted underneath. “Oh, because I’m a big idiot who gives out his name to every Tom, Dick, and...?” Travis looked to Margaret in what was an obvious trap. She looked back with a smile.

“Lily.”

“You don’t look like a Lily,” he said. If Margaret knew better, she would almost say he was pleased she hadn’t fallen for it.

“Well, you don’t look like a Travis.”

“Don’t I?”

Margaret grinned. “Travis is the name of a strapping young man. You-”

Travis gasped, offense that she was mostly sure was faked. “You come to my-” The word caught in his throat, and he had to veer slightly to continue. “My lady’s forest just to be rude?”

“I had a day off,” Margaret said with a shrug, before taking off her cloak and laying it on the ground, sitting down and uncovering her picnic basket.

Travis almost looked genuinely caught off guard by that, blinking down at Margaret as she pulled out a hunk of bread, but managed to wrangle his voice back into its disaffected norm. “And what are you doing now, if I’m not interrupting you?”

“This seems like a lovely clearing to have a picnic, I’m sure lovely company could be found.” Margaret inclined her head towards the empty side of her cloak. “Or do you need to stop me?”

Travis heaved a beleaguered sigh but walked over anyway. “Oh no. Stop. Don’t.” He almost seemed more leg than man when he sat, rummaging around in the basket. “Orange?”

Margaret smiled, and so they shared the first of many meals.

* * *

For one perfect moment Travis wraps his arms around Margaret, fingers tangling in the back of her dress and face pressed to her neck, and then he lets out a cracking scream that rattles through her bones. The sounds of tearing fill the woods as his body is reshaped under the Queen’s sharp gaze.

Margaret holds onto her love even as he shrinks beneath her hands, tangled as tight as ever around her but with none of the kindness of moments before. Scales under her fingers and around her chest and he is a snake, writhing and angry.

There is a sharp pain against her shoulder and Margaret cries out, Travis’s fangs sunk into her flesh. It burns and she grabs his head to pull it back, arms bound and chest tight but holding his face in front of hers to look into eyes that have no trace of her love left in them.

“I will not let you go.”

* * *

It was a burning summer that found Travis and Margaret sitting on the banks of a creek, pants and skirts rolled up to let their ankles rest in the current. 

Travis’s lackluster objections had done nothing to stop Margaret from returning often, and despite his transparent protests his walls had begun to crack. A flower tucked behind an ear here, a blush there, and the brush of their pinkies where their hands rested on the grass between them.

The sun was hot and the two of them did not speak, but it was a gentle quiet that surrounded them. World softened by the noises of the creek, there was not much need to talk, and it was that fragile peace that allowed Travis to link his pinkie with Margaret’s, eyes still cast out across the glittering water.

Margaret curled her finger around his, the touch of skin against skin burning more bright than the sky above. The words she spoke next were casual as a spur of the moment decision, and heavy enough that she had carried them around for weeks.

“May I kiss you, Mr. Matagot?”

She saw him stiffen, frozen like a rabbit caught, but the smile that burned across his face was not as unaffected as it was likely intended. “And here I was, thinking you’d never ask.”

“Perhaps I was waiting for _you_ to ask.”

Travis turned to face her. “You should really know better, I don’t do things.”

“Well, we’ll see about that.” Margaret glanced down to his lips, placed her hand on his neck, revelled in the growing heat she felt under her palm.

When she leaned in to kiss him Travis leaned towards her as well, caught in the gravity of their touch.

It was the first of many, and one that would never be forgotten.

* * *

Travis’s fangs are bared in a hiss as Margaret holds him, but it is drowned out as once more his form cracks and warps with a whine, untangling from her body and fur growing soft underneath her hands. His teeth grow shorter but do not lose any of their sharpness, and Margaret holds a struggling coyote in her arms.

Even as he snaps at her she pulls him close, heedless of the claws digging into her arms and the frantic scrabbling of his limbs. 

Travis barks out a horrible rasping laugh and his eyes roll back until they're all whites and still he struggles, snapping against any part of Margaret that he can find to sink his teeth into. She wraps her arms around him tighter, holding his head against her chest and burying her head against his.

“You are my Travis, and I will not let you go.”

* * *

The fall had not yet begun to rot when Travis and Margaret found themselves curled together under the trees, skin against skin and Margaret’s cloak keeping them from the forest floor. Margaret’s arm was around Travis’s shoulders where he laid against her chest, thumb brushing against his skin in an absentminded motion.

The sun was close to setting and the shadows were deep when Travis spoke, never breaking his gaze from the slight rustle of the leaves overhead.

“My name is William.”

The words were barely audible on the breath that carried them, hanging in the air for only Margaret to hear. Her hand paused its movement against his shoulder as the weight of the name settled in her mind, solid and priceless and real. When she spoke, her words were careful.

“What would you like for me to call you?”

He pushed his head against her chest, still looking away, voice aiming for a joke and landing on an exposed heart. “Call me yours and I’d be happy.”

“Well, my love, my name is Margaret.” She could almost feel the change of pressure in the air as she gave him her name, tangible in the slanting light.

When the sun set and he was changed, it was in her arms.

* * *

Margaret can feel Travis’s pained howl echoing through her ribs, claws retracting from where they dig into her arms as the Forest Queen’s frown deepens and her fracturing hold tightens. His cracking form shrinks once more, and as he tries to fly away with blood-fresh feathers Margaret grabs onto one of his feet, talons scoring her palms. 

His wings beat frantic enough that it is painful to watch but still Margaret holds on, pulling him back in to herself even as every inch of him struggles against it. There are tears on her cheeks from the pain of fresh wounds and what has been done to her love and what she must do to him still but still Margaret holds on, struggling to pin his wings down. Travis lets out a raspy keening noise that cuts deeper than any talons but still Margaret holds on, pressing him tight and immobile against herself.

Kneeling on the ground, folded around her love, Margaret whispers words meant only for him.

“You are my William, and I will not let you go.”

* * *

The winter set in with teeth. Travis arrived in the clearing long after Margaret, grimace bared and shoulders so tight they refused to shake.

“She’s throwing me away.”

The orange Margaret had been peeling fell from her grasp. “What?”

Travis was pacing the clearing, trapped with nowhere to go, hair loose and limp and hiding his face. “Guess I’ve stopped being interesting enough to play with, turns out that she’s handing me off to the Sovereign.” 

“William-” Margaret started, but paused at the flinch he couldn’t contain at the name that had been the Queen’s sole property for too long. She held out a hand to him instead and he pauses in his pacing to take it, fingers tight enough to hurt. His breathing was that of a caged animal and he couldn’t look her in the eye.

Over the year that they had known each other Travis had begun to let down his walls, but whatever had happened had peeled them away with a crowbar, leaving him nothing but raw nerves and a desperation to hide.

Instead, he drew close to Margaret, close enough that she could hold him in her arms and feel the tremors shaking him apart. 

“All those years she said I was _hers_ ,” Travis said, spitting out the word, bloodsoaked from a decades-long fight. His fingers caught in the fabric of Margaret’s dress, hidden between them where no one could see. 

“Dear heart...” Margaret paused, the enormity of what she held in her arms difficult to find the words to encompass.

Travis’s laugh was hollow. “Never thought she was the type for hand-me-downs, but hey. I thought she would always protect me, so who’s the idiot now.”

“She is,” Margaret said, not caring if the forest heard her words. Travis tensed in her arms, but did not loosen his grip. “Anyone who would let you go doesn't deserve to have you.”

“Well, she hasn’t exactly had sole custody in a while,” Travis mumbled. “Ever since you walked into this forest and refused to leave…”

“You could have stopped me, if you’d tried.” It was a well worn conversation.

Travis’s response was new in its vulnerability. “I never wanted to.”

Margaret rested her chin on his shoulder, whispered words only for Travis to hear. “I would have you if you would have me.”

“I-” Travis swallowed, and she could feel the motion. “That’s a big hypothetical for this time of day.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Do I have to answer that?” Travis paused. “Fine. Yes. Of course I trust you.” His voice softened. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Margaret echoed the words against his cheek.

They planned long into the night, knowing that they only had the one chance to steal his freedom.

It would have to be enough.

* * *

The desperate fluttering of Travis’s wings slows, swells, and he breaks apart in Margaret’s hands as he grows, reforming as a rabbit that wants nothing more than to escape, legs kicking and breathing fast and long ears pressed back against his head.

He is struggling in her arms and she mumbles gentle words against him, _love_ ’s and _darling_ ’s and _dear heart_ ’s, and still his fragile body scrabbles against hers. Margaret almost feels like she is breaking apart alongside him, splintering into pieces as she holds onto a love that fights against her arms.

It is not her love that attempts to break free, though. The Forest Queen looks down over this final exacting of control, fingernails growing through her palms as the rabbit makes one last desperate attempt to escape, rattling a gasp that sends fear down Margaret’s spine as his claws scratch across her stomach.

Through the pain and the fear and the heartache, Margaret focuses on the man she loves, the man who loves her, and speaks against the fur he is trapped in. “You are my love, and I will not let you go.”

The Forest Queen’s hold, already thinned when she decided to give up her changeling, shatters, and her anger shakes the trees. 

Travis is silent as he comes back to himself, cold and shaking in Margaret’s arms. It is awkward to take off her cloak with one hand and wrap it around him, but after all they have been through she has no plans to let go of him.

He hovers a hand above the scratches on her stomach. “They warned you that there was a monster in these woods.”

“Well, I don’t see any.” Margaret presses a kiss against his forehead, his cheek, and Travis turns to catch her lips in a kiss of his own. 

The cracking of branches echo around the forest and they pull apart, looking up to the Queen, towering above them on her steed. Margaret stands, pulling Travis up alongside her, and the arm he puts over her shoulders would appear careless if it were not for the shaking of his newly remade legs.

The Forest Queen’s profile is severe, glittering teeth revealed when she speaks in a voice that slivers the air. “You can not take one of mine from my lands.”

“He is no longer yours, you made sure of that. You have no claim on either of us, and so we will now take our leave.” Margaret lifts her chin, Travis warm beside her against the ice of winter. “Don’t worry, we won’t come back.”

The Forest Queen’s grin would rip them to shreds if it could. “I would love to see you try.”

"I'm sure you would." Travis packs as much disdain as he can into those words, the last ones he will ever speak to the faerie who held his life for so long.

Margaret turns to him. "Shall we?"

Travis takes his first free breath in decades, links his arm through hers. "Oh, why not."

Together, they walk out of the woods.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a comment or kudos, or come talk to me on tumblr at [the-ipre](https://the-ipre.tumblr.com)!


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